


Run far from the carnage

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Blood, F/M, Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki comes back for Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run far from the carnage

_"I told you I would return for you."_

_"Not like this."_

_"Exactly like this."_

  

  

  

His orders are clear: show no mercy, give no quarter, but the princess is to be left unharmed. The princess is to be left untouched.

It is easier said than done when the princess insists on being in the thick of it, felling giants left and right. She was always fearless.

It is Loki that takes her down, in the end.

*

They rarely talked about the kingdom, or who would ascend the throne. It seemed obvious to Loki when he was younger, far less so as they both grew.

"You know," Thor said once, hugging her knees to her chest and tilting her head at him, "If I was born to be queen, and you king, then the clear solution would be for us to get married."

"Don't be ridiculous," Loki said, and swallowed past the dryness of his throat. "You're my sister. Besides, look at you, you are as ugly as a boy."

"And you are as pretty as a girl. We're perfect."

"I will take the fairest of maidens as my queen."

"As if one would have you," Thor said, sniffing.

Loki reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Many have," he said. It was not a lie: he'd had a growth spurt, quite abruptly, and found enough ladies of the court willing to ignore his age and drag him into one alcove or another.

"So I have heard," Thor said, and sounded displeased. "Do you really think I'm ugly?"

"You spend too much time with your precious goats. Your face resembles theirs now."

Thor laughed, and kicked him in the shin.

Loki would never tell her the truth, not about this.

*

Everyone else falls away, and then it is only the two of them, as it has always been.

"Loki," she says. "What are you doing?" She is taller than he remembers her. There is a cut on her cheek, bleeding freely. Loki reaches out and touches it. She doesn't flinch, and he watches the poison seep in, burrowing under her skin.

"I am here to claim what's rightfully mine," Loki says.

Thor drops her sword, falls to the ground.

*

"Are you warm enough," Mother said, rubbing his shoulders. "Do you feel he's warm enough?"

"Apparently I'm a frost giant. I assume I will be fine." Loki refused to hug her back when she pulled him into her, refused to consider that this would be the last time he'd hear her voice, feel her touch.

"You will visit. I will visit," she said, and nodded her head as if she would make it truth upon the strength of her words alone.

Thor wasn't allowed to see him off. Father said she was inconsolable, and Loki had heard from the servants that she'd destroyed half her rooms. The servants exaggerated, but it reeked of Thor, and made him smile. It was for the best, regardless: better she remember him last as her brother, and not one of the monsters she was so afraid of when young. Better he remember her last as his sister, and not everything that he wasn't.

"Tell her -" Loki said, and paused. "Nevermind." He'd written a note, sent a raven to deliver it to her room. It would suffice.

Father squeezed the back of his neck as they waited for Heimdall to open the bifrost. "Do me proud," he said. Loki turned, and there was Thor, running towards them, hair streaming behind her. But the sword was already in, and in a moment she was gone, and he was in Jotunheim.

*

Odin powerless, countless others dead, Loki gathers whomever's left in a banquet hall, frost giants guarding their necks as they are forced to their knees. Thor he carries, throws carelessly onto the table where they'd had countless meals together, laughed and squabbled and shared secrets that only the two of them were privy to.

She is barely conscious, yet still reaches for the short sword at her belt. Loki takes it from her, tosses it aside. "Loki," Thor says. "Let me go." She still sounds as if she is making a demand of her elder brother: read me a story, lift me up higher, let us spar.

And he should gloat, should smirk at Odin over how easy this is, how easy it is to take everything he ever held dear.

Instead he wraps her braid around his hand and leans close, watches the first glimmer of awareness seep into her gaze.

*

Before Thor was born, a boy was expected. All the seers proclaimed it; even the healers, usually accurate, somehow got it wrong. Loki used to put his ear to Mother's belly as Thor was kicking, say, "He's really strong."

"That he is. He's impatient to get here." She hugged Loki to her and said, "He will be here soon. You will take care of him, won't you?"

Loki nodded solemnly, even as his heart constricted. He would no longer be alone, but he would also have to share. It didn't seem fair that they could both be king, even though Loki was older. "Did I kick a lot as well when I was in there," he asked Mother.

She brushed the top of his head with her hand, and did not answer.

*

He thrusts into her and she screams, high and lonely, and that is it, it is done it is done it is done. "It's all right," Loki says. "It will be over soon."

Thor starts to struggle at last, pushing up against his fist. Her muscles flex and her arms straighten against the table, and Loki has to drape himself over her body to keep her down.

He is thinner than her, still.

"Stop," she says, as he encircles her wrists with his fingers. "Loki, stop. It is not too late."

Only it is, and if his cock rammed tight inside of her isn't proof of that, nothing is.

"Oh, princess," Loki says, and has to choke back a sob. "I have only just begun."

Someone starts to cry.

It isn't Thor, it would take far more than this for her. Loki lifts his head to search for its source. She is hidden behind Volstagg's voluminous form, so it must be his wretched wife. "Remove her," he tells a guard.

"Shall I kill her?"

"Villain," Volstagg says. "You cannot -"

"Shut up. Put her with my mother." He turns his attention back to Thor as Hildegund's sobs fade away, says, "Surrender."

"No."

*

Thor always crawled into bed with Loki, despite all earlier attempts to keep her away. She would chatter inanely at him, refusing to shut up. Refusing to let Loki sleep until she fell asleep. Sometimes it would happen mid-sentence: he would be half-listening, barely awake, and her voice would stop. He would look over and her eyes would be closed, thumb invariably wandering towards her mouth.

Sometimes she brought in books and demanded to be read to: Loki learnt to leave a book by his bedside, in order that he could choose what it was they read, and not be subjected to reading about the defeat of the frost giants for the hundredth time.

Sometimes she just brought in a brush, and put it in his hand, and he would run it through her hair until it shone as bright and as golden as Asgard. Strange, how he'd never truly questioned why Asgard loved Thor as if it were a living thing, showering her with light and warmth, while Loki had to hide in the shadows merely to keep from suffocating.

Thor would always be gone by dawn, and only once did Loki wake up when Mother picked her up, to hear her say, "No, I want to stay with Loki."

"Shh, Thor. Go back to sleep, love."

In the morning Loki would think he had only dreamed it, and chose to forget.

*

Odin says, "Loki, enough, you have proven your point."

Loki shoves down further onto the table. "No, I have only just begun to prove my point, _father_."

It is not enough. He wants to see her face.

He lifts himself off her, out of her, says, "Turn around."

"No."

"Turn around, or I will drag Mother back in here and make her bear witness." He tugs on her braid, but it isn't necessary, she's already turning, squeezing her thighs together as she shifts onto her elbows.

Loki reaches between her legs, pries them apart, but gently. The inside of her thighs are sticky. Loki looks down and sees blood, more than he'd expected. He rubs some, idly, into her skin, and she trembles. "Tell me you will forgive me now," he says. There is no response. "Tell me," he says, louder this time, "that Asgard and Jotunheim can rule in peace together, that we can carve a treaty out, right here and right now. Father, what say you?"

He leaves Thor on the table, stands above Odin and swipes his fingers across his mouth, leaving it faintly stained with blood. "Stop crying for her. It's pathetic."

"I do not shed tears for Thor, son."

"I was never your son."

He sees movement, and grabs Thor as she's scooting off the table, slams her back onto it. "Stay."

She spits at him.

Loki says, "And I thought you loved me," and watches her face crumple, watches the fight bleed out of her. He wipes his face, slowly. It's warm, and when he leans down to kiss her she doesn't resist.

The kiss is softer than he'd intended, and he ends up cradling her face with his hand, tilting her head back as she opens her mouth, allows him in. And oh, she tastes the same, she tastes exactly the same. He had thought it would be different, for they are both different, but it isn't. He kisses her again, and again, wetly, hotly, drowning in her heat, and he can't tell if she kisses him back or not, can't tell if it matters or not.

When they break apart, Loki can feel his breath stutter as he tries to exhale. Thor says, in a rush, "It's not too late, Loki, you can still -"

"Hush," Loki says. This time when he slides into her it's easier, and she barely makes a sound.

*

It was merely a kiss. Her arms around his neck, dragging him down, his hands on her hips. But still, only a kiss. They were children. He broke it off, startled by a nearby gasp, and turned his head in time to catch a disappearing flash of red. "Someone saw us," Thor said, and for once sounded worried about the possible consequences of her actions.

"Yes," Loki replied, and shrugged. "It doesn't matter." It was just one kiss.

But of course, it did.

*

"We can still foster peace. Asgard can be rebuilt, I will rule Jotunheim, our realms will unite." He turns briefly to Thor, lying still on the table. "Thor of course is to be my thrall."

Rage, finally, streaks across Odin's face. "You would do this to your own sister?"

"Not my sister. I think we've established that already, have we not?" He lowers his voice and purses his lips thoughtfully. "But that is partly why you sent me away, isn't it? Couldn't have me defiling your precious heir. Funny, I'd always wondered why you favored her over your firstborn son."

"You are wrong," Odin says, and he sounds tired. "I did not."

*

Odin said, "This isn't a punishment. I have faith that you will do Asgard proud." This, after Loki was done screaming, this after he was merely reduced to sobbing, unable to stop. Frigga held him in her arms, rocking him softly, and Loki thought: she is not my mother.

"Perhaps he is too young," she said. "A few years from now, when he has time to adjust."

"No," Odin said. "Laufey expects him now."

"I will not go," Loki said, quite clearly. "You cannot make me." But then, what right did he have to make demands of Odin? He was owed nothing, was nothing.

Odin merely replied, wearily, as if he were the one whose entire world had been shattered, "You are a prince of Asgard, and as such have no choice but to live up to your responsibilities. There is nothing else but duty."

*

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Loki says. He unsheathes the knife, turns it over in his hands. "This was made to kill a king. It works, too. But death is too easy, I feel. Death is escape. Remember this though, as you consider my mercy: I am what you made me."

He turns, just in time to stab the knife into Thor's forearm, pain radiating up his own arm as it jams through bone. Thor drops her sword and he drags her down with the handle of the knife, and she only screams when he pulls it out, fingers clamped over the wound. "I told you to stay," Loki says.

"Stop this, Loki. Whatever I've done to you, I'm sorry. You're my brother." She starts to cry, finally; soft, anguished sobs. Loki gathers her into his arms, carries her back to the table. She clutches at him, fingers gripped into the fabric of his coat, and refuses to let him go. Loki takes her wrists into his hands, tries to push her away, but he finds himself unable to move. "Please, stop," Thor says.

"I can't," Loki says. "Can't you see? It's too late."

*

Jotunheim was cold, but the cold he could take. It would seem it was in his blood, after all. Laufey said, "He should have left you to die, as you were meant to."

"Yes," Loki replied, "he should have," and almost escaped the fist of Byleistr, slamming into the side of his head.

"Duck faster next time, runt," Byleistr said, and laughed. Loki started a list in his head.

He learnt a lot, in Jotunheim.

Such as:

His body was made to process raw meat, not what he had been given in Asgard. It explained the childhood illnesses, the general malaise, his tendency to react badly when given food he was not already accustomed to.

Still, he could barely stand the taste of what he was fed. Would rather food he was used to than what he was meant to eat. Helblindi said, "Are you too good for this food, you disgusting mongrel." He knocked Loki's plate out of his hands. Loki bent down and picked it up, set the meat back on it. He continued to pick at the food, said nothing at all. Helbindi was already on his list.

Such as:

His skin turned blue when touched by a frost giant, but only then. Laufey said, "You think you are still on Asgard, boy?" He took Loki's chin in his hand, turned his head to the left and then the right. "It cannot be Odin's magic at work." A smile spread, slow on his face. "So you are a shapeshifter, then. If I had known I might have kept you alive after all."

A shapeshifter. It made as much sense as anything. He could be that, and a monster as well, surrounded by other monsters. Laufey said, "You might adjust better if you took on Jotun form."

Loki thought about it for a long second, then said, "No."

Laufey merely grunted.

Such as:

The bastard son of a disgraced king could not ascend the throne.

But if the king were to be toppled, well then.

This, as with all things, Loki thought, had to be Odin's plan.

He counted the months, with Asgard's calendar. Three summers to the day: she would have only just come of age.

Loki would be his father's son, in the end.

*

Loki kisses the crook of her neck, as he drags her into his lap, says, "I will kill someone for the next act of disobedience. And the next, and the next. Do you want that?"

"No."

"Then behave."

Her armor is in the way, so he undoes it and tosses it aside together with her undershirt, leaving her bare chested. He glances around the hall. Almost everyone has their eyes averted, save for a few who cast their eyes downwards when his gaze lands upon them. The frost giants standing guard remain impassive, as always.

It doesn't matter. None of them matter. He slides his hands up her back and she leans into him, tucks her head against his shoulder. He loosens her braids, smoothes down the tresses until they flow evenly.

Thor lifts her head, stares directly at him.

Her eyes are very blue as she starts to move, and Loki has to fight to keep from looking away. He will not look away. Thor rides him as if she has done this before, as if she knows what she is doing.

She was always fearless.

Her hands settle on his shoulders, and he can feel her, oh he can feel her hot and tight around him, as if this were a fantasy and he was back in Jotunheim, his fingers wrapped around his cock, wracked with shame as he pictured her face, imagined her older than when he'd left.

Loki pulls her back into him, holds on for a long as he can, which isn't long at all. She's so hot, as if she were burning, searing his Jotun skin. He lifts her up, pushes her back down onto the table and she wraps her legs around his waist, and whimpers every time he drives into her. Or perhaps that's him. He cannot tell anymore.

"Loki," she says, and when she moans he cradles her head with the back of his hand. He can't breathe: he wants to scream, to pull away and run hollering down the hallways like he did as a child, Thor trailing behind him on chubby little legs, and then when they were older, speeding past him as if she were born to it.

He finishes instead, spills his seed into her with a long shudder, spills everything into her.

*

When they were children, they followed Father's favored huntsmen as they went on a quest. Loki was convinced they were lying about their exploits: surely tales so fantastical were just that, stories told to elevate themselves and entertain the easily impressed.

Thor would shrug and say, "Of course they're telling the truth. Why would they lie?" It never crossed her mind that they would.

It never crossed her mind that Loki would, even though he told her so very many. Little lies, all of them. None of them counted. He only ever told her one thing that was true.

They found themselves lost, inevitably, wandering the forest until dusk, and then mostly waiting to be rescued. Thor held on to Loki's hand, squeezed it tight, but still pulled ahead as if she wasn't afraid. Loki held out the other, lit a hovering green ball of light. Thor looked faintly awed, and Loki felt a flush of pleasure.

"Look, Loki. I see fire ahead," Thor said, after they had been walking around what seemed like the same stretch of forest for hours. She let go of his hand and ran ahead, not once looking back.

She always knew he would follow her, back then.

Around the fire crouched an old woman, poking at the flames with a stick. There was a bird roasting above the fire, dripping fat. Loki said, "Come away, Thor," and held out his hand.

But she merely stared hungrily at the bird, and then at the old woman. "I am Thor," she said. "Of Asgard. This is my brother Loki."

Names had power. Loki knew that well enough not to give his out freely; Thor was too assured in her own power that she did.

The woman straightened her back and beckoned them closer. Loki only came to fetch Thor, and as he did he could see that she had no eyes, and that her lips were sewn shut with thread.

Still, she spoke, said: _Loki, of Asgard, not of Asgard. I have a secret to tell you._

*

There is silence for moment, save for his harsh breaths and the sound of her heart beating rabbit-fast against his chest.

Loki lifts himself up onto his palms, taking his weight off her.

Her cheeks are flushed, the poison spreading out under her skin slowly fading away. It looks like lightning.

Someone else starts to sob, a low, horrified sound.

"You're crying," Thor says, and puts trembling fingers to his face. "Don't cry. It will be all right."

Loki starts to laugh, and finds that he cannot stop.

*

Her kiss was sweet, delicate. She tasted like sunshine, like the promise of something new.

He opened his eyes and she was gone, and he was in Jotunheim.

  

  

  

_"For a price," the witch told him._

_"I'll pay whatever it is."_

_"You will, yes. But you will find it too high."_


End file.
